Fear and Regret
by Deviepooh
Summary: Spencer always knew it would end up this way, maybe that's what scared her so much.
1. The Background

Spencer was no stranger to fear and hurt. That's how she was raised, for the most part. She couldn't even begin to tell you where her pain and loathing started. If you'd ask now, and if she felt like answering honestly, she'd probably tell you she was around the age of five or six. She'd also tell you not to hold her to that number because that's how she is. Getting an honest answer out of her wasn't exactly one of Spencer's strong points. She'd learned well from her parents.

You see, Spencer had already learned the most important life lesson early on. She had a hard time believing therapist number one. All he told her was some nonsense about connecting with her mother, some Freud shit. She didn't give a fuck about it, even if it kind of made sense. Spencer would never admit that, though. Therapist number two told her all about God and how his glory would save her soul so that she would get redemption. As he spilled out verse by verse, her mind only spelled out BULLSHIT verse 69 WHO GIVES A FUCK?

Spencer saw her first therapist at the age of seven. Even at that age, she thought she was too young to understand this. All of the other kids that were the same age wanted to talk about bugs and clouds. Spencer wanted to know why her parents hated each other, and why they asked her to choose. Spencer didn't know the answer to either of those questions, and neither did her peers.

At age eight, just entering into the grade of three, she had begun to feel different. Boys wanted to play kickball and girls wanted to talk about those boys, while they swung on swings. Spencer still asked her friends why she felt so lonely and why her parents always yelled at each other, just like the boys yelled at each other when they got angry. This therapist, or counselor (as the parents liked to call it), fed her Ritalin and would lay her down on a comfortable, if not awkward table. Doctor Demick always read her things that didn't make sense. He would put large names in front of numbers. Spencer was never comfortable with Dr. Demick. He tried to force her to feel things she didn't think she should be feeling. She always kept her mouth closed because whenever she tried to tell her parents, they told her to shut up. Dr. Demick often made her feel confused about herself and everything surrounding her.

When Spencer turned ten, her parents had almost given up. They turned to a last resort. Apparently therapist number three had barely graduated but had received excellent recommendations from her peers. Spencer had known that they didn't care. Her parents saw her as a problem on top of their own problems. She was happy to get rid of therapist number two. He hurt her often in a way she hadn't been hurt before. She expected the same of the third.

She entered the building and climbed upon the third story. The office that should hold her newest enemy was off to the left. As she turned the corner, she tried to relax and steady her mind. The door creaked as she opened it and no one was inside as she walked the short distance to the desk centered in the small room. Spencer was not used to this. There had always been a nice looking lady with pretty things hanging from her neck when she walked in. This woman had always greeted her fairly and led her to where she was supposed to go. Spencer looked around, but finding nothing, she opted to sit in a chair that was against the wall. Spencer picked her nails and pulled at her hair for a short while. Her anxiousness was building. She looked at a plain wall without any posters or smiles. She hated that damn wall. At least the other walls offered her hope. This plain off-white wall stared at her; this white wall hurt her just like Dr. Demick had. This wall could give her nothing; it only sucked the life out of her.

She stared and stared at the wall for hours, she thought, even though it was only minutes. She could see her smirk as she approached it. It made her sick. This shiny wall reflected her soul. It made her face herself and that wasn't what Spencer was used to. It only fueled her rage. But Spencer was strong. She learned she had to be, in order to deal with what she was feeling. What she was feeling almost blinded her. She felt like an animal. She was just so angry. So, she did what she had to do.

Spencer Carlin pulled her right arm back, eyes closed, she clinched her fist in a way she'd seen her father do before, and she threw her entire body into that wall, fist leading the way. Before her fist met the (concrete) wall, her time moved in slow motion. In her mind, she had made a collage of all the people she hated and put them into one small bulls eye. This might have been the greatest idea she'd ever thought up.

That didn't change when she felt the pain radiate through her knuckles, up to her elbow, even continuing to her shoulder. The pain made her laugh. She giggled until she felt herself being embraced by strong, yet gentle arms. The smirk on her face faded, tears blurred her vision and she felt herself being carried away.

She was placed into an uncomfortable arm chair. She tried her hardest not to cry; fearing that she would be slapped or punched like her mother was when she cried. As she sniffled and coughed, trying to act tough, therapist number three only stared at her. Spencer welcomed the uncomfortable chair and settled into it. She had gained her composure and met the therapist eye to eye. Spencer wasn't going to be the first one to talk, move or make a noise.

She would leave that up to the enemy.

Spencer was surprised when Dr. Davies stood up and made her way towards the scared child. She flinched in expectance but did not anticipate the warm and comforting arms that surrounded her. She could only close her eyes and welcome the comfort she was feeling.

Spencer always knew it would end up this way. Maybe that's what scared her so much.


	2. The Realization

Spencer Carlin, the devil child (her parents called her), the child that ruined their lives and marriage. They were not expecting to have a child as her father thought he was infertile. Her mother had been outraged. This child would ruin her figure and give her stretch marks, not attractive. Her father was pissed as well, he didn't want to worry about child support if the time may come and he didn't want to change diapers. The only thing he was proud about was spreading his seed and continuing his family legacy.

Arthur Carlin was very rich. He was a trust fund baby and had used his notoriety for all it was worth. In high school he was a preppy football player. He got accepted into Yale, (even though he had shitty grades), and majored in business. Money can get you anywhere. After college he opened his own business that specialized in overseas work. He owned many companies in and out of the United States and played the stock market like a slot machine. His parents taught him about diversifying his stocks and he always ended up hitting big.

He owned businesses in retail, culinary and (to keep up his image) homeless shelters. He met Paula while planning the groundbreaking in Africa. She was there doing the same. They ended up in a bidding war on the property before they both decided to cut their losses and work together.

Paula Smith was born in a small Christian town in Ohio. Her parents had her on a strict schedule, waking up at dawn to milk cows and feed chickens. She absolutely hated it. At the age of 15, when she started getting noticed by boys, she knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to own a business and be in charge. She often practiced on boys at school. She made them beg (sometimes cry) to get her attention. She was aware of her looks and used it to her advantage.

When Paula had gotten off her feet, she felt the same Arthur had. She wanted to impress people. She traveled to Africa and met her nemesis and greatest ally. They joined forces and used their images to boost popularity. They both thought it was perfect. Charity work (even though they were both getting paid) was the perfect scheme. It helped both of their business careers.

Paula was the lighter and Arthur, the gasoline.

They were the perfect couple (they thought).

They had the same needs and wants. They celebrated their success by drinking top shelf liquor. They went home and went wild.

Cue in the pregnancy of Spencer.

They married as soon as Paula found out she was pregnant. Even though they didn't want or plan for the baby, they used it to their advantage. They wanted to be the perfect couple so they took a lot of pictures with the baby.

Their plan worked and they hired the most expensive babysitter to take care of baby Carlin. Spencer was raised by a maid that lived in the house more than her own parents. The maid was very fond of baby Carlin and (since she was too old to have a child of her own) tried to care for her the best she could.

The caring and loving maid eventually got fired, so the Carlin's wouldn't have to pay for healthcare and hired a new caregiver. The new caregiver absolutely hated the Carlin's scheme and used baby Spencer as a way to show it. She intentionally left bruises on the baby and blamed it on the parents.

Unfortunately, the Carlin's had enough money to get out of these predicaments and the baby didn't get taken away.

So baby Spencer spend her early life going from nanny to nanny and eventually, therapist to therapist.

Spencer Carlin learned early on that people care more about money than they do others. It enraged her to no other limit. Therapist number three, (she had lasted exponentially longer than the other two), had actually cared about her. She was the only one who was ever there for her. She really adored Ms. Davies (she'd never admit to it). She was the only person she could remember to show her affection.

She wished that Dr. Davies had been her mother. She might actually be happy.

See, Dr. Davies had helped her a lot. Without her, Spencer thought, she might have resorted to suicide. Spencer hated herself, hated how she'd grown up, hated the world and hated everything else. Except Ms. Davies. She was the only hope Spencer had ever remembered having.

After their initial meeting, Davies had calmed Spencer down. Spencer didn't open up (she never would), but she had given Spencer a lot to think about. That's what Spencer loved about Dr. Davies. There was never any pressure. Spencer always thought greatly of Davies. She made sure her parents kept her around. She was Spencer's solace. Even though she could have, she never doped Spencer on medication.

Dr. Davies PHD had remained Spencer's therapist until the age of 18. Spencer was surprised she lasted that long. High school had been rough. All Spencer had gained was alcohol addiction and low self-esteem. She had pushed Davies away like a plague.

Spencer was 15 when she realized she was gay. She and Davies (ever understanding) had talked about it over many sessions. Spencer had her first encounter with a girl at a party. She was scared and nervous so she got drank up her confidence. She made a move on a friend of a friend and as far as she got was some tongue action and she might have copped a feel. It was almost the best thing of her short life.

Dr. Davies didn't approve and had tried to talk her out of this. She loved the rush and the high of party life. She hated it as well.

Spencer Carlin was smart. She was cold and calculating. She could read people like books and use them how she pleased. She graduated fifteenth in her class with little effort on her part. She understood math, history and science. She could memorize anything within a few minutes.

She still didn't understand why her parents would stay together if they hated each other so much.

She knew she was becoming just like them and she hated it. She hated it so fucking much.

So when Spencer turned 18, she moved out. Her parents happily let her, even paid for it. She got a large two bedroom apartment, (Spencer only wanted a one bedroom but her parents insisted). She stopped drinking and began working out. She began working at a local coffee shop. She loved the smell and could people watch all day.

She met a lot of people through her job. A lot of regular customers often chatted her up. She felt her life changing, herself changing. She knew she wouldn't be happy but she thought she might be becoming a little less sad.

Spencer was having a normal day, like all of the others. She was wiping down the counter when she heard the jingling bells, signaling a new customer. The coffee shop speakers were playing an older Death Cab for Cutie song, when soul meets body. She had been humming along with the music. There were six other people in the shop, sitting at tables. It was exactly 12pm.

Spencer put the towel and disinfectant spray away before she looked up to greet the customer. She straightened out the apron she was wearing and cleared her throat. She put on her best (fake) smile and looked at the waiting guest.

Standing before her, returning her (fake) smile was a young brunette with eyes to match. Spencer instantly took in everything she could. She memorized the lines on the woman's face when she smiled. She memorized how there were a few stray curls of hair that would suggest she didn't look in the mirror before entering the shop. She memorized the exact shade of lip gloss and eye shadow. She memorized the shape of her eyebrows and noted that this woman had damn near perfect teeth.

Spencer did all of this within a few seconds and didn't miss a beat when she said, "Hi, can I take your order please?"

When the woman ordered a large black coffee, Spencer smirked. She might have pegged this woman for a cappuccino drinker, but Spencer held firm her belief that assumptions are never right. So Spencer wasn't surprised about that. She also expected to hear a sweet, if not innocent voice, but she was wrong there too. The voice seemed to fit the young woman in front of her. It was raspy and sultry.

That voice almost made Spencer shudder, almost.

So, Spencer poured the coffee into an insulated cup, put a lid on it and sat it on the counter. She hit a few buttons on the cash register and looked up into the already memorized face.

"That'll be 2.95, please," she continued to hold out her (fake) smile.

The woman handed her a five dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

Spencer watched her as she took her coffee and made her way out of the shop, bells jingling again. Spencer didn't miss the glace the young brunette threw back at her either.

Spencer didn't take a breath until the woman was out of sight. It wasn't until that point either, until Spencer realized that her fake smile wasn't so fake at all.


	3. The Offer

After leaving the coffee shop, the young brunette couldn't help but feel like she had just met someone important. It might have been the way the blonde talked or the way she moved. The air around her made people pay attention. She was so obviously an extremely beautiful woman that could model in any magazine, instead she worked at a coffee shop. The brunette wondered what her reasons were for this.

Maybe she just moved into town and had to take the first job she could. Maybe she grew up poor and never had enough money to get a nice job or go to college. It could also be possible that the blonde thought so low of herself that she worked where she thought she deserved to work.

The brunette knew that her life had changed the moment she looked into those godforsaken blue eyes.

Through her college classes, she was distracted all day long. She needed to talk to someone and get a second opinion so she went to her mother. The brunette was like her mother in every way. They shared the same looks, opinions and dreams.

"Hey mom, what do you think it means when you meet someone for the first time, well I shouldn't say meet, but, well not even acquainted works either. When you very briefly cross paths with someone, and you just know that your life has changed?"

"Darling, we cross paths with hundreds of thousands of people in our lifetime. They all have stories and emotions just like you and I. Occasionally you'll meet someone that sticks, and when you feel like they've stuck, it's important to explore that," Christine told her daughter, while reflecting on her own experience. Christine had met someone and felt the exact same way. It was a number of years ago and though she doesn't speak to this person anymore, she's glad she could be in her life.

Taking her mother's advice, she always took her mother's advice, she pursued the blonde. She visited the coffee shop every single day, religiously. Some days the blonde was behind the counter and some days she wasn't.

As soon as she would walk into the shop, the blonde began preparing her large black coffee. It was a routine that was oddly comforting. The blonde would always say, "That'll be 2.95, please," and the brunette always handed her a five, telling her to keep the change.

After a month, the brunette felt she needed to change something. She needed to learn more about the peculiar blonde. She walked in, like she always does and by the time she got to the counter, the coffee was sitting there waiting on her.

She paid the blonde and broke her routine by not exiting the shop. Instead she picked out a table that would give her a good line of sight to the blonde. She could barely read the shock on the blonde's face as she took a seat, but she noticed it. She studied the other patrons; some were reading newspapers or books while others had laptops or phones in front of them.

Her gaze fell on the blonde again and was surprised to see her looking quite intensely back. They held eye contact until the jingling bells tore blue from brown.

Spencer was relieved by the customer that entered the shop. She couldn't look into the brunette's eyes any longer. They reached her somewhere deep within her soul and made her feel naked. She wondered why the brunette had decided to stay, and eventually decided it was the comfort of the small coffee shop. Spencer couldn't let herself, even for a minute, believe she stayed for her. Because people don't do that, not for her.

She got lucky again when a coworker came to give her a break. She took her apron off, not allowing herself to glance at the gorgeous brunette, and went out back. She sat on an old plastic milk crate and pulled out a cigarette. Spencer didn't often smoke, not like she did in high school, but when she felt this way, she found herself deserving of one. It only speeds up the inevitable, she thought.

She was taking her third hit when a voice, not just any voice either, spoke to her. Spencer almost expected it.

"Funny, I never took you for a smoker," the brunette chimed.

Spencer let the smoke roll out of her mouth, watching it slowly dissipate, before answering.

"Never make assumptions because they're more than likely wrong," she deadpans.

As of late, Spencer hated seeing the brunette walk into the shop, which she did every fucking day. She hated the way the brunette gave her hope because she knew it was false. Nothing good could come to her, and she didn't deserve anyone's time of day.

The brunette hovered above her, seemingly digesting her words.

"Fair point well made," was her reply.

Even just being in her presence made Spencer ache for something to take the pain away. Spencer started picking her at her nails and tugging on her hair. She knew without looking, that the brunette was studying her. She could feel it. It made her anxious and uncomfortable. She quickly smoked the rest of her cigarette before returning back to work. But, before she could close the door behind her, she heard the brunette again.

"See you tomorrow."

Spencer thought that her luck had finally run out. She had a stalker who is, in fact, drop dead gorgeous.

On the other hand, the brunette was happy about their first conversation. Even though it was short, she learned a lot about the blonde. She didn't fail to notice how the blonde was seemingly anticipating her out back, or how sexy she looked with smoke rolling out of her mouth, or the nervous habits.

There was something else about the blonde that she couldn't quite figure out, though. She seemed dejected, depressed even. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes didn't have any life in them. The tone of her voice was very different than when she took orders inside. Inside, she was cheerful but that one sentence she spoke outside had a heavier meaning, she thought.

So the brunette left the coffee shop and went into class late, for the first time ever.

As soon as Spencer left work, she headed straight to the bar. She looked like shit and felt like shit, so she numbed her pain with whiskey on the rocks. She never had a problem getting served thanks to a top of the line fake ID. It was one of the best investments she'd ever made.

Spencer stayed at the bar until they refused to serve her, which pissed her off, so she broke a few glasses and left. She would have to walk home, since she walked to work this morning. She was drunk, completely intoxicated. She hadn't been drunk in a few months and she decided she wanted to be like this a lot. She was happy, she thought. She stumbled along the sidewalk, occasionally stopping to look at a sign or into a window of a store. She giggled to herself and tripped a few times, but she was happy.

The brunette was finally driving home after a long day of lectures when she noticed someone walking on the sidewalk. As she drove closer, her eyes almost bugged out of her skull when she saw it was that damn blonde. She quickly parked her car and ran up to the girl who reeked of alcohol.

"Hey, what in the world are you doing?" She reached out to grab the girl, but she flinched away.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'm sorry, I won't touch you. But can you please tell me why you're walking out here in the dark by yourself?"

"Because I'm white girl wasted!" She shouted, and then proved it by dancing in circles.

The blonde was laughing and it made her laugh for a minute too. She'd never looked happier.

"Let me drive you home." The brunette really didn't want to leave the poor girl out here alone.

She seemed to think it over in her head before smiling and agreeing.

In the car, the blonde insisted on cranking up the music so she could continue to dance. Thanks to modern technology and GPS, they made it to her apartment.

The blonde turned the radio off and turned in her seat. She frowned before asking, "Hey, what is your name?"

"My name is Ashley. What's your name?"

"Spencer. My parents hate me and they named me a like a boy so I would get made fun of."

Ashley was taken back at how honest and serious she sounded.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Spencer." Ashley smiled at her, hoping to cheer her up a little.

"You should leave me alone. I'm no good for you," Spencer stated, looking her dead in the eye.

She hoped that being honest with Ashley would send her away. She needed Ashley to realize just how fucked up she was, because then she would never want her.

"Why would you say that?" Ashley questioned. She was surprised at how this conversation was going, but didn't show it.

"I'm a total fuck up. I'm not saying this for your sympathy because that's the last thing I want from anyone. I'm saying this because it's true. You need to know that. The only good thing I can offer you is coffee but I might end up fucking that up too." Spencer was becoming more pissed off at how stupid she was being. She clinched her jaw and her fists.

Ashley stared at her intently. She was trying to figure this girl out.

"I'm not going to leave you alone."

"Why?"

"Everyone needs someone, even you, Spencer. Let me be your someone."


	4. The Inevitable

"_Everyone needs someone, even you, Spencer. Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

After Spencer ran from Ashley's car, begging her not to come after her, she continued her drinking binge. It was her, a bottle of Jack, and her kitchen table. Even though she was taught that crying was showing weakness, and weakness should never be shown, she was all alone. She was alone in her apartment, alone in her mind, and alone in her heart. Spencer cried, she cried for herself, for her parents and for everyone who had ever been hurt before.

She cried because of Ashley. Spencer wasn't naïve enough to believe anything was perfect, but when she thought about Ashley, she figured that's as close as it gets.

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

And that's what made this whole thing hard for Spencer. She knew Ashley was amazing, even without really knowing her. And Spencer knew how fucked up she was, how much time she would need to ever even begin to get over her depression, her issues, her past.

Ashley deserved much better than her. She deserved someone that could give themselves to her completely. Spencer could not do that. Spencer could not even let herself in, not without the encouragement of booze or drugs. When she was sober, she went through the motions; she smiled and laughed a little. She learned what "normal" people do, and did it. But, when Spencer faced her inner demons, what she saw honestly scared her.

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

Those five words ran through her mind continuously. Spencer was fucking frightened because she wanted to say yes. And if it was any other person, anyone in the entire world, she would've said yes. She would have used and abused them for all they were worth and thrown them out like day old coffee. She would have felt no remorse; she might have even laughed after.

But this is Ashley we're talking about here. This is Ashley, and Spencer could not use or abuse Ashley. Spencer thought of Ashley like a once-in-a-lifetime event. She thought that Ashley resembled the Northern Lights, or being in four states at once, or having your stomach pumped with a thick black charcoal substance as you watched horrible memories of your pathetic life pass you by. She laughed at the realization that she had only experienced one of those things, but could picture the other two perfectly.

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Everyone needs someone,_

_Even you, Spencer._

"_Let me be your someone."_

Those were the last thoughts that ran through her mind as she passed out, face down, into her kitchen table. Eventually she woke up on the hard floor, hungover, heard those words again and pictured that fucking angelic, precious face, and realized she was late for work.

This is exactly what she deserved. And sometimes Spencer cannot stand waking up in the morning, feeling so fucking pathetic. A glance in the mirror is enough to send her stomach rolling. Sometimes she wants to send the pretty face her parents bestowed upon her right into a wall or a mirror, anything to show how ugly she felt on the inside.

She brews a pot of coffee because what's another half an hour of tardiness? There's no cream or sugar going into this mug, though. In less than a day, she's back to being self-loathing and oddly narcissistic. Even if she hates herself, people will always want her. She adds a dash, (two shots) of whiskey to her coffee and sits down to watch the news. "The News", people say, like it's some kind of staged TV show when it's hard brutal reality. It always supports her theory that the world is a shitty place and shitty things happen to good people and shitty people alike. These unfortunate but expected events do not care if you have a family and wife at home, they do not care if you are happy, sad, loved, hated. Shitty shit happens to everyone, so Spencer feels at home when watching the news. She can relate to the crying families, grieving husbands or wives.

But, she is alone in her sadness. There's no one to feel bad for her, only parents that never cared, fake friends who were never there, lovers who wanted bragging rights.

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

"_Let me be your someone."_

The words still haunt her, still feel like a cold knife through her loveless heart. Spencer wished she could change and be the person Ashley deserved but she already knows she would fail. She'd long accepted the fact that she was a lost cause. She'd thought about offing herself but she didn't deserve the satisfaction.

This is the life that was planned for her, so she lived with it.

Ashley felt tormented after Spencer bolted away from her. She replayed the words Spencer had spoken, and even though she knew Spencer was loaded, she could tell that the blonde meant them. Ashley couldn't help but wonder what happened to this girl to make her feel so awful about herself. Ashley saw subconscious happiness in Spencer but whenever she realized she might be happy, Spencer tore herself down. It's almost like she felt she didn't deserve a single ounce of good.

Ashley couldn't shake her feelings of being distraught about the beautiful blonde the whole drive home, so when she arrived, she sat down with her mother.

She gave her mother the replay of the entire day and waited for a response. She had, of course, kept her up to date for the past month of her progress. Her mother appeared to be thinking back on an older time and Ashley was confused about this. She felt hurt when she saw worry line her mother's face and a frown replace the usual smile.

Christine was in fact thinking of a past memory. She was thinking of a small girl who was so depressed and hopeless, even she couldn't fix her. This girl was someone Christine could never forget, the young girl had buried herself into Christine's heart without ever trying.

She should have known something like this would happen to her daughter, but she couldn't believe it until she was sure. She didn't know whether to be happy or sad for Ashley. All she knew was that the world worked in strange ways, and when you think you've got it figured out, there's a 79 mile per hour curveball thrown that completely flips your world upside down.

"Ashley dear, give me some physical attributes to this girl," Christine asked, unsure of what she was hoping for.

"Well she's a little taller than me, possibly 5'6" or 5'7", light build, blonde hair, and the deepest pool of blue eyes I'd ever seen," Ashley talked about her with so much passion, Christine couldn't help but be scared.

"What is her name?" She asked the question even though she already knew the answer. Christine felt an odd sense of foreboding, but tried to shake it off.

"You'd never believe it by looking at her and she said the saddest thing to me about it. She said that her parents gave her a male name so she would get teased growing up, isn't that depressing?" Christine nodded; she had heard the same thing only from a ten year old.

"Ashley, her name is Spencer, isn't it?"

Ashley could not hide the shock on her face when her mother named the woman. It took Ashley all of three seconds to connect the dots that led her mother to Spencer.

"You were her therapist? The girl you worked with for eight years, that was Spencer? My Spencer?"

Christine had never given Ashley any details, no name, nothing they talked about, but Ashley had been smart. She had figured out it was the same person that kept her mother up all night crying, for eight long years.

All the mother could do for her child was walk over to her and embrace her while they both broke down in tears.


End file.
